


Break the Ice

by karasunovolleygays



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Are Dumb, First Kiss, Friends to OwO, M/M, third year first years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Kindaichi is spending the night at Goshiki's house, but the conversation takes a turn far beyond what he had rehearsed in his head.
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu/Kindaichi Yuutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Break the Ice

The air is hot and gross everywhere they go on their long run, with no relief to be found in shade or otherwise, and Kindaichi is sure he’s about to expire right there on the sidewalk.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this hot today,” he whines under his breath, drawing a snort from another runner in the group. 

A quick glance shows it had been Goshiki, whose entire face is almost as red as the bandana tied across his forehead. “I swear to god, Kindaichi, every time you complain about the heat, it gets hotter!”

“That’s now how science works, genius,” wheezes Tsukishima, who is finally keeping up with the pack for the first time in days. “You’re thinking too much and your brain is boiling inside your skull.”

Goshiki chirps his disagreement, and Kindaichi bites back a smile. If he’s going to be suffering in the sweltering heat, at least he’s suffering with these guys.

Ever since their first Miyagi youth development camp when they were first years, a handful of them had made a point of training together one Sunday every month. Tsukishima only comes half the time and Kunimi almost never, but the sharp pang of early losses in the Interhigh for both Aobajousai and Karasuno bring both of them out of their usual malaise.

That thought makes Kindaichi’s legs itch to move faster, even if they’re not capable of it four kilometers into their hellish trek.

After the fifth kilometer finally ends, they all collapse in the shade at a park near Datekou, that month’s chosen location for their freelance training. Tsukishima is sprawled in the grass next to Kunimi, who is face down and looks suspiciously like he’s asleep, while Koganegawa guzzles water from the cooler manned by his mom. Hinata is already elbow deep in the rice balls waiting for them.

That leaves Goshiki and Kindaichi slouched next to each other, politely accepting ice cold water from Koganegawa-san, who is almost as tall as her son. “Don’t drink too fast, boys. You don’t want to get all pukey before dinner.”

At the mention of a meal, Kindaichi closes his eyes and groans in anticipation. While the sweating and suffering is unpleasant but necessary, his favorite part of their Sunday tradition is the potluck picnic the parents arrange after their training ends. This month, Goshiki’s dad, a chef by trade, is bringing his special sunomono. It’s a simple dish, but he makes a point out of making all different kinds so they can always find a new favorite.

An hour later, it’s meal time, and all the boys – even Tsukishima – descend upon the picnic table laden down with their delicious repast.

With their heaped plates, Kindaichi and Goshiki park themselves next to each other under a tree and tuck into their food. Their first helpings are quickly consumed, but as they both settle back in for seconds, they eat a little more slowly and strike up a little bit of conversation.

“So, did you wanna come over Saturday night?” Goshiki asked. “Dad said it was okay.”

Kindaichi nods. “Yeah, sounds good. Practice will be over by about three. Is four okay?”

“Yep.” Goshiki grins and swipes a piece of takoyaki from Kindaichi’s plate. “Dad’s working until eleven, so the sooner the better.”

“Cool.” Kindaichi immediately pulls out his phone to schedule multiple reminders, both to keep him from forgetting or being late, as well as to give him adequate time to figure out something interesting to talk about all night. 

The next weekend rolls around at a snail’s pace, and Kindaichi finds himself rushing through cleanup after practice so he can make an earlier bus line to Goshiki’s neighborhood. Half an hour earlier than planned, he jogs up the concrete steps of the Goshikis’ porch and knocks on the door.

An overly red Goshiki opens the door with a spoon hanging from his mouth, only one sock on, and completely undressed save for a pair of board shorts. 

“Uh, hi,” Kindaichi squeaks with an overly toothy smile that he’s sure looks more like a wince.

Yanking the spoon from his mouth and leaving a streak of what looks like chocolate in its wake, Goshiki blurts, “I can explain!”

“Wasn’t gonna ask,” Kindaichi lies, ducking into the house when Goshiki steps aside and throws the door wide open. 

In a whirlwind of motion, Goshiki takes Kindaichi’s duffel bag and dashes up the stairs, returning a few minutes later fully clothed and cleaner. He vaults over the back of the couch to land in the seat next to Kindaichi. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was bored and decided to hang out in the yard. Hence being all crispy fried. Then —”

“Really, it’s fine,” Kindaichi says, waving off the rest of Goshiki’s increasingly wild tale. “I’ve known Kunimi for six years. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you’ is his way of life, and it’s usually a lot more batshit than this.”

Goshiki’s eyes widen. “You mean . . . _our_ Kunimi?” At Kindaichi’s wan smile, he slaps his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “I won’t be able to look at him the same again.”

Kindaichi harrumphs. “You get used to it after a while.” He eases back into the soft recesses of the couch while Goshiki turns on the television. A loud shounen anime populates the screen, and Goshiki is immediately rapt. The more Kindaichi watches of the show, the more he understands why.

The protagonist is heroic, nervous around girls, kind of dorky looking, and works his ass off. If Goshiki were an anime character, he would definitely be this guy.

Soon, however, the story draws Kindaichi in and he is soon leaning closer to watch it unfold just like Goshiki is. “Oh man, that dude is gonna be hurting for a while,” he comments once the episode’s end credits start rolling. “Doesn’t matter who you are. You step in front of a car and it’ll fuck you up.”

“Yeah.” Goshiki slouches back and rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’ve seen this a dozen times and this part makes me nervous every time.”

Shrugging, Kindaichi says, “Yeah, I get that. I get all worked up before every game. It’s never as nerve-racking once it gets started though.”

“Same.” Goshiki perks back up when the next episode starts. 

The last episode of the season starts just as food delivery arrives, and the two of them dive into both with gusto. 

Next comes a barrage of video games, mostly Mario Kart, which neither of them are good at, but Kindaichi enjoys watching Goshiki lose his mind every time a blue shell derails his racer.

It’s nearly midnight when they shut off the game console, spurred by the sound of Goshiki’s father’s car pulling into the driveway. Instead, their activities shift toward the thing Kindaichi had been panicking over since the invitation had been issued: chitchat.

“So, how about Hinata going to Brazil?” Goshiki says to break the ice, and Kindaichi can tell he’s just as nervous. 

Kindaichi nods. “Yeah. I don’t know how he’s gonna pull off jumping in sand, but if anyone can do it, he can.”

“Yeah.” Goshiki grows quiet once again, fidgeting in place until Kindaichi can’t help but do the same. 

He can’t help but worry. Goshiki is one of the most talkative people he knows, which is one reason Kindaichi finds him to be easy company. He talks a lot so Kindaichi doesn’t have to be so self-conscious about how little he sees fit to offer into a conversation.

Finally, Kindaichi interjects, “Dude, is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Goshiki chirps, voice high and cracking. “What could possibly be wrong?”

“Well, you do kind of sound like a thirteen year old boy right now, and you’re way quieter than normal.” Kindaichi hadn’t intended to be so blunt, but the words are a relief to say nonetheless. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay, but if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” His cheeks flame. “Wow, I said that as lame as possible.”

Goshiki buries his face in his hands and groans. “Yeah, I’m a little out of sorts,” comes his muffled reply. “I’d tell you, but I don’t think you really wanna know.”

“Oh?” Kindaichi wonders if Goshiki realizes saying ‘you don’t wanna know’ automatically increases one’s curiosity tenfold. Now he isn’t sure if he can sleep until he does. “It can’t be that bad.”

“What do you consider ‘bad’?”

Shrugging, Kindaichi says, “Uh . . . necrophilia?”

A loud snort shoots out of Goshiki, and his cheeks balloon as he tries to corral his mirth. “Okay, it’s definitely not that bad. I just —” His gaze drifts down to his lap. “You have to promise not to tell anyone else, all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” A secret is something Kindaichi can’t help but covet, and he leans in closer in bald curiosity.

Goshiki’s fingers twitch on his thighs, and he doesn’t look Kindaichi in the eye. “There’s, uh, someone I like.”

Kindaichi’s belly heaves uncomfortably. “Oh.” He isn’t sure when or how it happened, but he doesn’t think he enjoys the idea of Goshiki liking someone ‘like that’ at all. However, the way Goshiki is in tumult over this admission, Kindaichi can’t — no, he _won’t_ — make it about himself. 

“I bet she’s nice,” he offers, the words sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

Shoulders tensing up, Goshiki says quietly, “That’s actually the problem. The person I like, uh . . . isn’t a girl.”

Sitting up so harshly his back cracks from hours of slouching, Kindaichi gasps. His mouth hinges open and closed over and over until he’s finally able to eke out a paltry, “Good luck, I guess.”

Goshiki kneads his lower lip between his teeth as he watches Kindaichi closely. At last, he asks, “So you don’t find it, like, gross?”

“No?” Kindaichi swallows hard, wondering if that’s the answer he thinks Goshiki wants or his own. Instead, he rephrases, “People like who they like. What does it matter what kind of junk they’ve got?”

Rather than put Goshiki at ease, the statement only disturbs him further. “Sure, you say that now, but what if some guy told _you_ he liked you? It’s not so easy to accept stuff like that when it’s directed at them.”

It’s a valid question, and Kindaichi doesn’t have an answer for it. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess that’s something I’d have to think about if it actually happens.” Mouth bent into a thin line, he hums in thought before he confesses, “But I’d like to think I’d still feel the same. After all, my first crush was on a guy.”

“Really?” Goshiki’s shoulders are already starting to straighten out again, his figure starting to reinflate. “So you like guys too?”

“Whatever feels good is fine with me.” The knot in Kindaichi’s belly is slowly unfurling as the conversation pushes on. It’s something about himself he has never shared with anyone, not even Kunimi, but sitting on the floor in Goshiki’s bedroom, it’s the first time he’s been comfortable enough to let it out. 

Goshiki grins at him. “Yeah, I get that. My first crush was Ushijima-san. He’s everything I ever wanted to be, and he’s so good looking too. It’s almost unfair.”

Kindaichi nods in agreement. “Same with Iwaizumu-san. He’s strong, brave, supportive, and he has the nicest abs I’ve ever seen.” His cheeks flame. “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

“Same.” Goshiki’s hand reaches out, almost covering Kindaichi’s before it is snatched away. “Looks like we both have a thing for aces.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Kindaichi’s mind is swirling while his fingers fidget in his lap. “So, uh, does that mean the guy you like is an ace, too?”

Blushing nearly as hard as Kindaichi, Goshiki nods. “He didn’t start out that way though. He got moved to that spot because he was the best player on his team. He’s a pretty badass ace, even if he started out as a middle blocker.”

The tension in Kindaichi’s belly snaps back into a knot. It isn’t hard to figure out who Goshiki is talking about. “So you like Hinata, then?”

He doesn’t expect Goshiki to roll his eyes. “No, genius, I like _you_.”

“Oh.” The words leach into Kindaichi’s skull, and his eyes widen. “Oh!”

“Yeah.” Goshiki’s gaze is riveted to the floor. “So, uh, yeah. That. Please say something.”

Kindaichi gawks at Goshiki, mouth slack. He knows he looks like an imbecile, but he can’t help it. Goshiki likes him. _Him,_ of all people. He has no doubt all the girls at Shiratorizawa would fight over the captain of their prestigious volleyball team, and a fair few of the boys, too. He’s funny, attractive, humble, and dedicated. 

But Kindaichi? He’s never had a girl confess to him because he’s too tall, awkward, not the best looking guy, and the furthest thing from a social butterfly. Kunimi gets all of that sort of attention, while Kindaichi hopes someone will leave him chocolates in his desk on Valentine’s Day because it’s him and not some sort of obligation.

Finally he speaks, and it’s a single rasped word: “Why?”

Goshiki’s head tilts to the side, his lips pursed in thought. “What do you mean ‘why’? You’re, like, the coolest guy I know.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Goshiki lists forward close to Kindaichi’s face, nose wrinkled and brows knit. “Just ‘cause _you_ think you’re not cool doesn’t mean you actually aren’t! You being down to earth is one of the things I like about you, but enough is enough.”

Kindaichi gulps when he realizes he can see the amber flecks in Goshiki’s irises, warming the darker brown around it. They’re breathing the same shred of air, close enough to touch anything they might want to. He can count the sun-darkened freckles on Goshiki’s cheeks, and an odd urge overtakes him.

 _To hell with it._ Leaning forward, Kindaichi presses his lips to the apple of Goshiki’s cheek. 

Eyes screwed shut, Kindaichi can’t make himself look at Goshiki. He can’t believe he just did that. He kissed Goshiki Tsutomu, one of the strongest aces in Miyagi and one of his best friends since they met their first year, on the cheek like a damned granny. “Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath.

Warm hands cup Kindaichi’s jaw, and his entire skin tingles when he hears Goshiki whisper, “Yuutarou?”

Craning open one eye, Kindaichi replies, “What?”

“Shut up, will ya?” Goshiki pulls Kindaichi close and kisses him full on the lips.

When they reel apart, both of them are gasping and so, so red. But above all, they’re both all smiles. The sight makes Kindaichi’s heart stutter. 

Goshiki wraps his arms around his midsection and beams. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“Feel free to remind me here and there,” Kindaichi ventures to say, and he shivers when the statement makes Goshiki hide his face. “So, uh, this is the part where we cuddle and stuff?”

A frown curls on Goshiki’s lips. “Dude, it’s a million degrees. The only thing I’m cuddling with is a pool noodle.”

Both of them laugh while they settle in for bed, sharing the patch of floor next to Goshiki’s bed to take full advantage of the fan going at full blast in the window. Despite his denial, however, Goshiki’s hand found Kindaichi’s while they drifted off, and Kindaichi lets their fingers thread together between them.


End file.
